


We Were Born to Wake Up, Get up, Get Out There!!

by Goombella123



Category: Persona 5, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Canon Compliant, Crossover, Gen, Mostly humor, i want to emphasize this is a CROSSOVER not an au, its not persona without existential dread, shadow viktor, yoi is pre-viktor but post grand prix and p5 is post-bank palace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-03 16:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10971117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goombella123/pseuds/Goombella123
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki moves back to Hasetsu after his crushing defeat in the Grand Prix. At the same time, Tokyo finds itself in the middle of a crime conspiracy. Through a series of coincidences, this 23-year-old, dime-a-dozen figure skater with no self esteem becomes a Phantom Thief.Curse those delinquent teens and their talking cat.





	We Were Born to Wake Up, Get up, Get Out There!!

**Author's Note:**

> knowledge of both series not required. if you came here from only one, you'll pick up the other pretty quickly.
> 
> please enjoy!!

  
Yuuri doesn’t know why came back to Japan. Or why he went back to Hasetsu, specifically. Nostalgia, maybe. Memories of a childish Yuuri crawling back to his mother after falling over in the rink come to mind, with a post-failure irony. He'd thought he'd grown in ten years, not regressed- but apparently, he was still a baby. He'd cried and failed to communicate his feelings. He'd failed full stop, to do anything but disappoint others.

 

Maybe Yuuri just needed comforting, after the disaster that was the Sochi Grand Prix. He had Phichit back in Detroit, and his ex-coach Celestino; but 'home' had a family he hadn't seen in five years. There was a warmth and understanding from the people around him, and Yuuri's failing health clung to whatever shreds of kindness it got.

 

And it wasn't his fault when that kindness was shown through pork-cutlet bowls.

 

 _I’ll work it off_ , he thinks. _I’ll get back to the rink eventually._

 

That’s what he tells himself. But Yuuri Katsuki is very good at lying. 

 

He knows he's slowly deteriorating, inside and out.

 

Dance has always been the place to express his feelings- Yuuri Katsuki, in his soul, is a skater. He's an artist without paint, or a musician without an instrument when he can’t let loose at the rink. He can’t vocalize his feelings; he's too scared, too unused to it, so he bottles them up like a noxious cocktail in a clouded glass. It's crucial- and Yuuri knows this, _he knows this_ \- that he's able to show, not tell, what he feels.

 

He’s lost, otherwise.

 

So for months, he eats away his feelings. Literally. He ruminates constantly, on how he watched his dreams of standing high on the podium melt away long before he received his score. How ‘standing beside Viktor’, for a short time, felt simple- and was so quickly ripped away with the first jump he flubbed. The loss of Yuuri’s pride, how he was humiliated at the Grand Prix- with every day he pretends to be content in Hasetsu, he feels the crushing weight of what he couldn’t achieve. There’s a hole in his heart, growing more and more inexplicably empty. So Yuuri whiles his time away, lazing about at the inn- thinking too much.

 

He helps out, sometimes. Out of boredom, mostly. Other times he sleeps for hours, with no reason to leave the house unless it’s to eat. And no reason to leave his laptop unless it’s to eat, either. Eating is basically Yuuri’s only activity besides chores, but it's something. They're both something. And doing something is better than nothing, when you know you're depressed. Yuuri does- he's not a teenager, after all, and this isn't the first time he's felt this awful. It's the _worst_ , maybe, but the feeling of existential dread, of thinking you're worthless, isn't new to him. So with everything he does, he gets better at coping with it.

 

And eventually, Yuuri goes outside again.

 

It was Spring.

 

He jogs in the morning, although that, he admits, was food-motivated and food-related. Though the groceries he ran to get, and ran all the way back with, weren’t for him. They were for the inn- and his mother was immeasurably pleased with him.

 

“Such a good boy~” She coos. “Helping out like the old days, hey?”

 

“Mom--“

 

It’s March, and it’s freezing this early.

 

That being said, it still felt rewarding to sit down afterwards and relax- to feel the unpleasant but familiar burn in Yuuri’s calves that he’d forgotten he’d missed. He could do this more often, he thinks- exercising. Once he’d convinced himself to try it again.

 

He almost thinks he could do the same when he has to get back to skating.

 

_‘has to’._

 

_‘when’._

 

But the silence of the inn is enough to shake it. _One thing at a time,_  he thinks.  _Besides. If you do skate, it won’t be competitively, no matter how much you want to._

 

_You blew it._

 

Some things are harder to cope with than others. Just to spite the voice that Yuuri’s been pretending doesn't exist, he turns on the public TV.

 

He flicks through the channels in Hasetsu’s temperamental spring chill-Yuuri's able to lean on the tatami floor with his hiked-up sweatshirt, and a small heater. He keeps the remote dangling from one arm, channel surfing on the end of his knee. And flicking past casually, Yuuri catches glimpses of various things- some tv-drama with two teenagers kissing sloppily, all zoomed-in on their shiny lips.

 

… _No thank you_ , Yuuri gags internally.

 

It’s too early in the morning. He scrunches his nose up, all pink- shows like that only serve reminds him how pathetic _he_ is, in comparison. When is _he_ gonna finally be kissed? He's 23, god damn it!

 

 _It's not going to happen by watching this_ , Yuuri snorts to himself.  _Click._

 

Suddenly, music blares out of the TV. Yuuri nearly drops everything as some shonen anime-looking thing _screams_ at him- practically blasting through the whole inn. It startles Yuuri so much he falls over- and as he scrambles to sit up again...

 

_Turn it off turn it off before Mom hears-_

 

He changes the channel successfully.

 

 

  
_\--Viktor Nikiforov- Russian figure skating legend- is slated to appear in an Exhibition charity skate in Tokyo, following his stunning performance in Saitama for the World Championships. He also took gold earlier in the 2013 Sochi Grand Prix, with a free skate that stole the show completely. He also competed successfully for Russia's national Olympics team, and will be starring alongside other legends of figure-skating._

 

 

  
…Sports news. Though Yuuri flinches at the mention of the Grand Prix, the older female journalist remains stoic- images of Viktor skating float across the screen, angelic. Ethereal, almost. Even pixilized like this, Yuuri’s transfixed.

 

Viktor Nikiforov, the living legend.

 

The larger-than-life, gorgeous Russian man who can skate as easy as he breathes. A man who Yuuri has admired since he was only twelve-and-a-bit, and Viktor was sixteen. Hell- Yuuri had built his _own_ career around trying to match him in the rink. And then Viktor had forgotten he existed.

 

...Yuuri sighs in longing. What he _still_ wouldn’t give, to have Viktor watch him the way he watches Viktor. Even for a minute.

 

 

_Look at me._

 

 

In the end, Yuuri tunes out the TV

 

 

 

\---

 

 

_Amoung a series of ‘mental breakdown’ incidents this year, security at the event and around Mr Nikiforov and his international co-stars will be at a maximum. Tokyo continues to struggle through a historic string of cases in continued criminal threats._

 

_Leading to our next story; several rumors once again are being spread by fans of the ‘Phantom Thieves’- claiming various celebrities as the group’s next target in an online polling feed. Coincidentally, Viktor Nikiforov being one of them._

 

_The Thieves are a notorious group of ‘social justice’ advocates in Tokyo, who claim to ‘steal the hearts’ of criminals- who then turn themselves in to police. After the confession and arrest of Kaneshiro Junya – a former mafia boss, and lord of a blackmail and drug smuggling ring- the Thieves have been hailed as heroes of the Shibuya streets._

 

_But are their actions done in the interests of justice, or fame? And are the ‘Phantom Thieves’ simply part of an elaborate prank by disgruntled teens?  We interview ace-detective Goro Akechi for this exclusive report._

 

 

 

\---

 

 

  
“You’re getting tickets to the Exhibition, right?”

 

“…Why should I?” Yuuri frowns over Skype. “I’ve got no reason to go.”

 

Phichit groans through his webcam- Yuuri watches him lean back in his office chair, exasperated. “Yuuuuuri.” he whines.

 

Yuuri whines right back at him. “Phichiiit- I’m serious. I’m not taking a train for seven hours so I can be in Tokyo all alone.”

 

Phichit leans forward, urging him- “You won’t be alone! Do it for Viktor!” he cries.

 

Yuuri makes dying noise in the back of his throat.

 

"No." he says sternly. Or, tries to. It comes out more like a kitten trying to growl.

 

“Aww." Phichit frowns. "Well... if not him, then do it for Johnny Weir."

 

That gets Yuuri to grin. A hand on his cheek, confidant-“You just want a close-up of him doing the slide.” he accuses. Yuuri _knows_ him. Phichit mimics one himself when he stretches- arms skyward, pulling his shirt up his sides.

 

“Maybe” Phichit teases, taking extra time with each syllable on his tongue. “But can you blame me? When he throws his head back like that, dude-” Phichit makes a clear noise of approval- nodding, and holding up _OK_ sign with his fingers to the webcam.

 

“Good. Shit.”

 

Yuuri snorts, right into the mic.

 

“You’re ridiculous.” he tells him fondly. Phichit flicks a strand of hair from his face with satisfaction.

 

“Ah, I know. You love me.” he beams. “Now, imagine _Viktor_ doing that slide-“

 

  
“Phichit!”

 

  
\---

 

**Mod Poll: Who do think the Phantom Thieves Will Target Next?**

  
Nikiforov. It’s gotta be.  
\- _kathincolor_

He called me a pig when I was a kid and it hurt really badly, but I doubt it’s a good enough a reason to be targeted by the phantom thieves.  
\- _kazliin_

Um??????????????? Maybe it is?????? I fucking hate him. he’s an overrated dick.  
\- _sha_chihoko_

Lmaooooooo dude dont be salty. he’s a p good guy I think  
\- _mariosbrother_

he’s a celeb you fuckig moron. no one knows what he’s really like.  
\- _sha_chihoko_

… chihoko has a point, actually. @macaroonsie, thoughts?  
\- _thesadgay_

ehhh. its kinda true. but insulting him is rlly uncalled for  
\- _macaroonsie_

yall are dumb. u know im right stop defending him  
\- _sha_chihoko_

 

  
**(sha_chihoko has been banned by mod teenie)**

 

  
GET REKT  
\- _zane420_

 

**(zane420 has been banned by mod teenie)**

 

omfg  
\- _angelitacreates_

 

…anyWAY!!!! Nikiforov. back on topic.  
Sure, he’s cool- but everyone has secrets. ESPECIALLY celebrities. who knows what kind of issues he’s had in the past? he could be guilty of anything.  
\- _vexhalia(jamie)_

 

@vexhalia(jamie): agreed. we all have our shadows, whether or not you’re a celebrity. viktor nikiforov is no different.  
\- _oikvw_

 

 

ok but can we talk abt his broad ass shoulders?? hot damn i want him to nut me

- ji

 

  
**(thread created: 31st March, 2014)**

 

 

  
\---

 

 

  
Yuuri ends up spending almost an entire week deciding whether or not to go to the Tokyo Exhibition. And that means he spends a week ignoring it completely- but on the Saturday, Yuuri finally decides to sit down and consider it properly. He has the means to go at his fingertips- his laptop sits open, but the home screen stays blank. He’s unsure what he needs, exactly.

 

He knows his hesitance doesn’t come from Viktor being there.

 

And it isn’t about the train, or the seven-hour distance- or being alone in a Tokyo hotel the night afterwards, or wandering the streets that he used to as a kid during school field trips and special shopping holidays, that are undoubtedly now are different- bigger.

 

Yuuri _hates_ thinking.

 

But he does, and he digs deep. He knows that, more than anything else- transcending every other anxiety- his hesitance to watch Viktor skate like he normally does comes back to his failure at the Grand Prix.

 

Which still hurts so badly.

 

_Why does it hurt so badly?_

 

Why is it, too, that what hurts the most about it is that Viktor didn’t recognize him? There was no conclusion to his story- no part of ‘The Failure of Yuuri Katsuki’ that jumped out to him as a beginning or an ending. This… emptiness that Yuuri feels _wants_ something from Viktor selfishly- some kind of recognition, or fulfillment. Something to bookend Yuuri’s career.

 

Yuuri wants to keep skating for that reason.

 

But he _can’t_. Not with this gnawing hole inside his chest, where his motivation to _get to the Grand Prix and win_ used to be. Yuuri threw it all away when he lost- he either needs to replace his drive to _win_ with a new goal, or find closure with his loss of it.

 

…Maybe that’s all it is. When Yuuri finally clacks across his keyboard and looks up ticket prices, he assures himself that it's is all this will be.

 

 

A spectator’s farewell to skating.

 

 

 

His room, at this time of night, is indifferent to his decision. It’s two AM, and the whole inn is silent- which is how Yuuri hears his phone beeping from under his pillow.

 

He takes it out, and switches on the screen.

 

“…Weird.”

 

There's a red icon on his phone, and it blinks. An eye surrounded by darkness- an app Yuuri can’t delete, apparently. He tries several times, tapping it, but it won’t even close. It’s super creepy.

 

_Ugh._

 

Yuuri knew that stupid ‘Phansite’ was shady.

 

He curses Phichit for linking him in the first place- he didn’t need a phone virus today, or ever really. But now he has one. And he doesn’t want to use his phone anymore, in case his data gets sapped or his information stolen or whatever it is viruses do to computers. But _god_ knows Yuuri can’t afford a new one.

 

He stows his phone back away.

 

And when Yuuri looks around again, it's all he can do to rub his eyes blearily. Lights dance across his bedroom window- unnatural pinpoints of white and red, like eyes from a city that never sleeps. Like Tokyo, he thinks. Which is where he’ll be very soon.

 

But for now, Yuuri disregards it, and shuts his eyes- with it, trying to shut out the waves that roll over him with an ominous, sinking feeling.

 

And the voices that call unfamiliar names when he sleeps.

 

 

  
\---

 

 

  
Shibuya is mostly how Yuri remembers it. Busy. A little busier than when he was kid- but that’s it, really. Vendors cram every corner of the streets, and each clanging, human noise would be distracting if they didn’t blend together into a cacophony.

 

It’s the definition of city.

 

Yuuri’d compare it to Detroit, though it’s ten times louder and brighter and yet ten times more comforting. A part of him wishes he could have brought Phichit with him for even more familiarity- and also, since his best friend would love it here. Then again, Yuuri’d probably lose him on the streets. There was so much to be interested in, and Phichit was interested in many things.

 

Yuuri walks past an arcade at one point with a Hamtaro-filled crane machine.

  
  
(he _definitely_ takes a photo for him)

 

There’s a video store at one point, too- ironically, a short walk from a massive cinema. Between it, a donburi place, and a burger shop. Between them, a back alley filled with teens.

 

Trust kids and the depressed to seek out food. Trust both to eat it behind buildings secretly.

 

One of them- a boy with blue-black hair and bandaged fingers- stands off to the side of the group. He’s scrolling through his phone intensely- talking to another kid with frizzy hair and glasses, as Yuuri passes by.

 

“-nothing suspicious.” he says, unsure, but confidant in his conclusion. “You guys should be ok. Just confirm he has a palace with the nav, and go grab his treasure.”

 

…Must be code-talk for drugs, Yuuri thinks. Something illegal, at least. Though they’re all stupid to be chatting like someone won’t overhear them and call the police.

 

Yuuri walks a little faster. That person isn’t going to be him.

 

 

  
He gets to the ice rink near the middle of the city a little while later, at least an hour early. Ok- maybe two hours early. Three. He was anxious about being late, alright? But that means there’s barely anyone here, fortunately. A small line gathers, but nothing dramatic- just some older-looking ladies who were probably as antsy about being on time as Yuuri is. He’d expected the entire population of skating otaku to be here, actually- but for once, Yuuri’d avoided them.

 

It means that no-one recognizes him here.

 

Good. He’s left alone to watch the passers-by be.

 

He can still smell a good chunk of the food vendors from here- in addition to various burger places, there’s a ramen stall just a few paces away. A store selling Takoyaki and other street foods camps around the rink. They must know there’s an event soon.

 

…Well. If the giant poster screaming “ANNUAL CHARITY EXHIBITON” wasn’t literally everywhere around here, Yuuri’d be more impressed with them. The legends of skating’s faces confront him at every angle, staring at Yuuri.

 

Judging him for quitting.

 

Wanting a _commemorative photo._

 

Viktor’s eyes, in the photographs, are an icy blue. Yuuri had always wondered if they were like that in real life, and he can confirm- they aren’t.

 

They’re _worse._

 

Across from Yuuri, there’s a poster on the wall with just Viktor, standing. His arms stretched beyond the limits of the paper in the shot they’ve used, commanding power like a prince. His head tilts upwards, reverent; he exposes his neck to the heavens like a marble statue.

 

He’s beautiful, and Yuuri knows it. Oh, he knows it well- it’s just really frustrating, to see his beauty captured in image alone, when Yuuri’s seen the real deal and knows the snapshot is nowhere half as pretty.

 

And so unfairly, un-intentionally cruel to Yuuri.

  
  
The chatter of people has thinned out here, but Yuuri’s still hard-pressed to eavesdrop on any of them. He doesn’t really want to- it requires an amount of attention better spent looking at poster-Viktor. Even after everything, Yuuri doesn’t want to take his eyes off him.

 

That is, until a group of teenagers rush past the poster on the wall opposite, blocking him. Yuuri screws up his noise- he opens his mouth to shout at them, but they’re gone before he can complain. Like a monster from the corner of his eye.

 

For the millionth time today, Yuuri feels uneasy where he stands.

 

And then his phone rings.

 

He yelps; a high pitch, terrified squeal that causes at least one person to stare at him incredulously. The skater scrambles for his phone as it beeps, swiping to unlock it. Craning into the speaker, he whispers frantically-

 

“-Phichit!”

 

“Yuuri!” Phichit cheers on the other end. “How’d you know it was me?”

 

Yuuri scowls. “I told you not to call me.” he says, a little harshly. “My phone has a virus.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah.” Yuuri pinches the sides of his nose- explaining it to Phichit, though he’s still sure he’s the one who gave it to him. “Some weird app with a red logo appeared. I’m being cautious.”

 

“Ooh. Yikes.” Phichit cringes. “Sorry, dude. Where are you?”

 

“Tokyo Ice Rink.” Yuuri states.

 

His phone buzzes eerily- though it’s probably just Phichit humming to acknowledge him. “You’re wayyy early.” he comments.

 

“I know.” Yuuri whines childishly. “I couldn’t help it.”

 

“Yes, you could.” Phichit scolds him. Yuuri doesn’t disagree- he continues, “You’re probably just anxious to see your Prince Charming again.”

 

Yuuri’s phone buzzes again, weirdly.

 

“Which one?” He snorts sarcastically.

 

Phichit pretends to think on the other end. “Let me see… Plushenko?” he jokes.

 

Yuuri cackles. “He isn’t even in this!”

 

“I’m just teasing.” Phichit’s voice grins. “But seriously, Yuuri- you know I’m talking about Viktor.”

 

It’s Yuuri’s turn to pretend to think. He places a mock-finger on his lips, even- imitating a certain someone, though Phichit literally can’t see the irony. “Viktor Nikiforov, maybe?” Yuuri muses. “Or are we talking about some other famous skater named Viktor?”

 

His phone nearly jumps out of his hand as it vibrates- Yuuri’s startled and finches a little bit, but Phichit doesn’t notice a thing.

 

“Yuuuuuri.” he groans- too busy lamenting. “you’re killing me.”

 

Yuuri shakes it off. “I’m just teasing.” he echoes back, cheekily.

 

Phichit groans even louder in his ear.

 

“Come onnnn, Yuuri!” his best friend sighs. Yuuri can only laugh at him mirthfully. “You’re absolutely destroying me, buddy. God, I wish you were here.”

 

Yuuri doesn’t think Phichit even realized he said that. When he does, though, it’s enough to sober the both of them- Yuuri’s shoulders slump, and his voice turns tender.

 

“…Me too, Phichit.” he says softly.

 

Phichit seems to change with the mood, too- Yuuri hears him smile, and he can picture in his head the way that his eyes would crinkle when he’s talking about the things he’s fond of. He asks, seriously- “Dude- I hate to be that guy, but…when are you coming back?”

 

Yuuri should have expected that. He bites his lip.

 

“…To Detriot?” he tests, hoping to re-route things.

 

“To skating.” Phichit corrects him. His voice is tinny, halfway across the world like this. “I want you to take it easy, but… I miss you. We all do, Yuuri.”

 

Yuuri doubts that. People miss him for his skating, not him as a person. So until he can skate, he’s not worth anything.

 

Still- he can’t say that to Phichit. He lies.

 

"I’m sure they do.”

 

Though he’s not lying when he adds, “I was thinking of getting back to basic exercises at the Ice Castle later, though.”

 

Phichit’s voice brightens immeasurably.

 

“Really?!” he exclaims.

 

Yuuri opens his mouth to answer him- _Yes_ \- but suddenly, his phone buzzes with the force of several vibrators. Which is to say that it’s _fucking uncomfortable_ for Yuuri to put up to his ear, so he holds it at arms length. He can hear it quiver electronically.

 

“Shit.“ he swears quietly. He has to yell over the noise, cringing. “Phichit, I think the virus is making my phone buzz randomly. You gotta hang up on me.”

 

He hates the disappointment in Phichit’s voice, at the prospect of having to leave. “Oh… ok.” he says. “I’ll call back later. Have a fun night.”

 

It’s the least Yuuri can do to affirm to him. “I promise.” he says. “See ya.”

 

“Bye!”

 

 

 

When Phichit hangs up, the violent vibrating mercifully ceases.

 

Yuuri thought his phone was going to jiggle his hand off, honestly- he sighs, and stares down at his screen accusingly. Just like he’d suspected, the weird-looking app thing had opened itself, and was glowing.

 

“This is your fault.” he scolds it out loud.

 

 _Now navigating,_ it says back to him. Yuuri screws up his nose, displeased.

 

“What does that mean?”

 

 _Code input correct. Match located. Now navigating_ , it repeats.

 

Yuuri squints at the screen suspiciously.

 

 

 

Then in a fraction of a second, his phone lights up like a Christmas Tree.

 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

 

“-nothing suspicious. You guys should be ok. Just confirm he has a palace with the nav, and go grab his treasure.”

 

“Seriously?” Ann cries in disbelief. “That’s it?”

 

“…It should be?” says Mishima, raising an eyebrow. “You get requests all the time, Takamaki. This isn’t different.”

 

It’s only a few minutes’ walk to the rink from here- the Phantom Thieves had gathered in an alley away from prying eyes, so civilians wouldn’t overhear. Akira was the one who pointed out there’d be skating otaku gathered outside the exhibition- he wouldn’t have wanted to be caught with them, although Yusuke and Ann didn’t seem to mind.

 

Right now, one of those two people was talking with Ryuji- explaining the intricacies of Figure Skating to him, probably. And to his credit, the blonde boy listened intently.

 

Akira couldn’t help but glance at them fondly.

 

Yusuke was a quiet guy- but let him talk art, and he was a flurry of movement without hesitation; a voice that sung passionately. It was endearing. But a glance was really all Akira could give- Ann’s voice reminds him they’re supposed to be with Mishima for a mission-briefing.

 

Akira recounts their progress so far in his head.

 

Viktor Nikiforv, age 27. Russian Figure Skater and Living Legend. He’s a well-known celebrity; and several days ago, the Phantom Thieves had received an anonymous letter about him, reading:

 

_Viktor Nikiforov will be in Toyko soon. Steal his heart, and reveal to the world his lies, so that he may live freely._

 

…At least, that’s the gist of it. Ann’s English-to-Japanese tends to get a little weird.

 

It seemed a simple enough mission- the day that Nikiforov was supposed to arrive, the Thieves scoured mementos. Except they couldn’t find his shadow. Or many other shadows, actually- the Phantoms had held up the ones that they did find, and according to them, everyone was at the ‘Ice Castle’, partying. A supposed ‘Prince Charming’ was throwing a banquet for charity, but the rumours said that he was really hoping to find somebody.

 

Interesting.

 

There was no doubt that ‘Prince Charming’ was Viktor Nikiforov. And the ‘Ice Castle’ _had_ to be Tokyo Rink- they didn't call Nikiforov a 'living legend' of skating for nothing. By previous experience, a place where one rules is a place where one will conceive their shadow as a ruler. Which meant that Viktor needed the thieves even more than any of them would think- he had a bountiful palace to be raided, and a heart to be stolen.

 

And the Thieves all agreed they needed to do it quick.

 

…As soon as Ann and Akira puzzle out the details. Makoto crouches on the dirty ground between them and Mishima, catching bits-and-pieces of both their and Yusuke’s conversations- all while occupying Morgana with a piece string. She pipes up momentarily, seeming to add to Ann’s sentiments.

 

“She’s right, you know.” she says, casually. “When we went through Kaneshiro, there were always a bunch of loopholes we had to jump through. It won’t be as easy as you think.”

 

Akira had considered this, but he shakes his head at the both of them. “I know that.” he says “But Nikiforov’s treasure is already exposed, so we don't have to worry so much. He know’s we’re coming.”

 

Mishima nods sternly. “Your threats were broadcast on TV.” he adds. “I don’t know if you have enough time to argue this, actually.”

 

Ann pouts, but only slightly. She rests a hand on her chin- with her perfect nails tapping a rhythm on her lips. “…Still.” she muses, slow and careful with her wording. “Something stinks about this. It feels like this is all… too easy.”

 

“...You mean the letter?” Makoto asks her bluntly. Morgana meows when she stops wriggling the string. “because I agree.”

 

Ann squints, but nods eagerly. “Exactly. Like, who sends letters?”

 

Mishima stares at her, deadpan. His clicks his phone off to address her fully, and it'd be a lot more intimidating if he weren't so sickly-looking.

 

“You don’t email a thief.”

 

“We text each other all the time?” Akira points out. Mishima huffs, displeased.

 

“That’s different!” he cries- his protests catch the attention of Ryuji and Yusuke, actually, who join their conversation with a snort and noise of question, respectively.

 

“Who’s emailing who?” Yusuke asks.

 

Akira fills him in quickly- “Ann and Makoto think the letter is suspicious.”

 

“Not suspicious, per say-” corrects Makoto. “It’s more as if we’re… rushing into things by trusting it.”

 

“Dude.” Ryuji squints at her pointedly. “The guy has a palace. That’s all we need.”

 

“But-“ Ann interrupts. Ryuji cuts her off with a snip.

 

“No ‘buts’!” he says. “Good people don’t have palaces. It’s simple.”

 

Ann looks away. She folds her arms, dejected, and Akira can’t say he’s happy about about Ryuji shutting her down. He and Mishima seem to want to just get on with things, while Makoto and Ann are rightfully wary. Morgana has decided to have a nap, if he’s counting him. And Akira… is still thinking.

 

But Yusuke.

 

“May I see?” he asks quietly.

 

Akira blinks behind his frames.

 

“The letter?” he asks.

 

Yusuke nods slowly. Akira complies- the sound of him rustling through his pockets is pure tension, in the now-quiet hum of the alleyway. It seems all conversation had ceased within the group in favour of seeing where this was heading.

 

“…Do you need my help?” Ann says to Yusuke- he shakes his head.

 

“No thank you.” he replies. Yusuke adds, almost cryptically- “It’s not the words I’m trying to read.”

 

Akira has no clue what that’s supposed to mean.

 

He’s about to ask- but he doesn’t want to interrupt him. Yusuke’s always so serene, when he’s concentrating. His brows furrowing intently, he traces a finger over the page and each letter, carefully and individually. Analyzing it- there’s a moment, after a minute, where he comes to a conclusion. And eyes widening, Yusuke brings the same finger to his lips.

 

“…It’s him.” he breathes in wonder. “Nikiforov wrote this.”

 

Akira's mouth falls open, gaping in a silent question. Yusuke looks up to him for emphasis.

 

"This is Viktor Nikiforov's writing." he says. "He wrote the request himself."

 

The entire group explodes almost comically.

 

Makoto stands up like a firework- “Why didn’t you tell us before?” she yells. Yusuke looks up at her, the look on his face reading 'clueless'.

 

“I didn’t think it would be relevant.” he replies. “I only thought of it when Takamaki expressed concern.”

 

“Thats- Yusuke!” Ann scolds him, loudly. Her finger jabbing his face- her own lights up, all red. “Are you _sure_ that Viktor Nikiforov wrote this??”

 

Yusuke nods. “I’m positive.” he confirms. “I have signatures from him, and his writing style is distinct. As a native Russian, first of all, it’s rather obvious that both his grammatical structure and handwriting style mimics Cyrillic. As far as I know, he also does not read or speak Japanese.”

 

“Oh my god.” Akira breathes. Clutching his phone in a death-grip, Mishima looks like he’s ready to jump out of his skin and strangle him.

 

“Are you telling me-“ he seethes “that Viktor Nikiforov wrote a hit request on himself? And _no one_ thought to check the handwriting?”

 

“…Apparently.” Akira mutters.

 

He holds a hand up to his mouth. It’d be rude to laugh at the situation- except he already... did. Mishima presses his lips tight, judging him.

 

“I’m going to get something to eat.” he says, like a coiled spring.

 

And then, he leaves.

 

Akira watches his back as he flees. Next to him, Yusuke tilts his head- “Is it something I did?”- as the letter in his hand flutters with the wind. Akira and Ryuji stare at him for a full minute. The look of genuine concern on Yusuke’s face is so funny that they both burst out laughing.

 

 

 

 

Not too much later, the Thieves (minus Mishima- who did, in fact, go get something to eat and did _not_ come back), end up outside the ice rink about three hours before the show. There are significantly less people there than Akira had thought there’d be- he glances over to his friends, and weirdly enough, Yusuke seems almost disappointed by that.

 

“I was hoping to have someone to share my knowledge of skating with.” he laments. Ann hears, and nudges him in the shoulder.

 

“Cheer up, buddy.” she smiles. “You have me!”

 

Yusuke’s face practically sparkles- a matching, smaller smile appearing. “I appreciate it, Takamaki.” he says brightly. “By chance- were you thinking of attending the Exhibition later?”

 

Ann taps her lip.

 

“Maybe. I _am_ a fan of Viktor’s.” she muses. Somewhere, the conversation had woken Morgana- Akira feels the cat’s head pop up out of his bag.

 

“I’m starting to wonder who _isn’t_ a fan.” he mutters sourly.

 

“ _I’m_ not.” Ryuji comments, strolling behind the group casually. Morgana flashes his mirrored eyes at him.

 

“Good. We agree on something.” he says.

 

Makoto shrugs at the both of them.

 

“I don’t really get skating,” she participates, “so when it’s on, I just cheer for our country.”

 

“So you’d be cheering for _Yuuri Katsuki_.” Ann provides- turning her head over her shoulder. Makoto nods at her.

 

“I think I’ve heard the name. He’s the guy that flunked out in the Grand Prix, right?”

 

Ann cringes.

 

“That was… hard to watch.” she inhales. Yusuke hums next to her.

 

“I certainly agree- but don’t go mentioning it in front of him.” 

 

"I won't- what."

 

The group halts with a shudder.

 

With all five turned to Yusuke, they watch him as- with an eyebrow raised subtly- he tilts his head to in front of him. Akira looks over, and he sees a man, no older than his twenties, standing around in front of the rink awkwardly- with black hair and a thick build. Behind his unremarkable looks and plain blue glasses, he lets his eyes drift the posters and food stall, taking in the sight and smell of the city. He's clearly not from around here- his eyes seem to jump from poster to poster, lost in his own star-studded world.

 

Akira finds it hard to believe he’s a skater, honestly. Especially if Nikiforov is the standard they go by.

 

This 'Katsuki' is not feminine or graceful. At first glance, at least- Akira knows that looks can be deceiving. But his conclusion comes more in the way that his eyes glimmer when he sees all these posters. It’s a look he sees in Ann’s face when they bring out the dainty costumes, and Yusuke’s when he’s praising a flip or a spin. It’s the look of a fan, not a fellow competitor. Who knows- he could completely transform when he gets serious.

 

There’s something about him, when his eyes come to the poster behind Akira- the one of Nikiforv himself. A quality his eyes attain. It looks like longing.

 

And then, he spots the Thieves.

 

“Run.” Akira whispers, panicking.

 

Katsuki’s wanderlust turns sour, and he opens his mouth to yell- but they're already booking it. And that, in fact, is the story of how a group of suspicious-looking teens are nearly caught running down the side of the rink with a cat who hates figure skating.

 

 

And it's also the story of how aforementioned teens don’t happen catch the way in which Katsuki mysteriously disappears- like he was never outside the rink to begin with.

 

 

  
\---

 

 

When Yuuri widens his eyes again, the world becomes a blur of red and black with bleeding streets. Distorted like a fish-eyed lens and fading from reality, everything spins.

 

He almost finds it in his heavy lungs to scream.

 

He nearly pukes, when it finishes- this weird, nauseous feeling. The feeling that Yuuri had transitioned from one place to another instantaneously. Which, maybe he had. Because Yuuri looks up, and the sky is a demon.

 

Against it, snow falls- and in the center, a castle of ice claims itself King. It shimmers and bends mysteriously, and looking at it, Yuuri almost considers vomiting again from sheer intimidation. Staggering, he takes a sluggish foot forward towards the castle- intending to ask for help, or… something.

 

But someone grabs him.

 

Yuuri’s whole body tenses. He cautions himself, slowly, to turn around, never minding how dangerous it might be. He comes face-to-face with a knife- and a boy with red gloves that match the way the sky bleeds.

 

He says, “Don’t move.”

 

And Yuuri screams.

 

He stumbles backwards into snow- over what, Yuuri doesn’t know or care, but he trips, face-planting. He lands on the ground with a thud that wracks his whole body, on his side where he crushes something in his pocket.

 

“Shit!“ Yuuri hears someone swear, “You scared him!”

 

“Joker!”” another voice admonishes. Both are young-sounding- Joker, Yuuri presumes, is the boy with the red gloves. He rolls over to look at the him- and ‘Joker’ shrugs.

 

“…Sorry.” he apologizes.

 

Yuuri scowls at him venomously.

 

Besides Joker, Yuuri’s now able to make out a group of four other people- all kids, from what he could tell, and all dressed… wildly inappropriately. He cringes at the girl with blonde pigtails wearing a latex-red suit, and by the looks of things, no _bra_ either. Another girl sports a black mask and spiked shoulder pads that looked like some kind of fusion between BDSM and the 90s, while a tall boy- even taller than Yuuri- is sporting a Kitsune mask and… a tail?

 

Oh, great. Yuuri got spooked by a bunch of furries.

 

“Come on, don’t _do_ that to people!” Yuuri scolds them. He stands tenderly- wincing at a bruise in his hip and rubbing it. Joker offers a hand to help him; Yuuri ignores it pointedly. “I _know_ you’re just kids,” he says sternly, “but you’re acting like a bunch of thieves, holding people at _knife-point_.”

 

A boy with a skull mask chokes, and snorts loudly- latex-girl smacks him in the back as shoulder-pad’s eyes widen. Joker barely spares any of them a glance- instead, he sheaths his knife. And never once lets his gaze steal away from Yuuri.

 

“We are” he informs him.

 

Yuuri blinks, slowly.

 

“…Thieves?” he asks, voice cracking. So much for trying to be 'in control', or 'an adult'.

 

“Phantom Thieves.” someone confirms- Yuuri looks around to locate them, but he can’t seem to-

 

“Down here.” 

 

Yuuri- a little shakily- casts his gaze.

 

…There’s a cat with a bandanna, who Yuuri had overlooked. Because honestly, he’d thought it was a plushie. It’s not. The cat folds its arms, and grins smugly- no doubt at the way Yuuri’s glasses fall down his nose when his eyes widen in fear, and his hands tremor.

 

"Hh- what- you-"

 

“Hi.” it says, far too pleased. “I’m Mona.”

 

“Joker.” Adds Joker quickly, holding out his hand again to shake.

 

Yuuri grasps it dully.

 

“Where… who… ?” he mumbles airily. Words seem to escape him- Yuuri’s mind is wandering a billion directions, and he means to sound coherent- he really does- but he’s seeing everything and comprehending _nothing._

 

The talking cat fills in for him.

 

“This place is called the Metaverse.” it explains. “A manifestation of a person’s corrupted fears and desires.”

 

   
“And we’re the Phantom Thieves.” says Joker, like it’s nothing.

 

Yuuri left eye twitches.

 

 

“Ah, I see.” he says, weakly. “that explains everything.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This AU is majority based off @NICHOLASonICE and @the_sad_gay 's Persona 5 crossover threads on twitter!! please go thank them for this idea (esp nic, who always has the best au somehow. go give em both some love!!)
> 
> speaking of- the usernames in the chat section are either those of friends or of the people who inspired this fic. you'll be able to find them on either tumblr or twitter! (except for guang-hong. im sorry about him.)
> 
> my last note is that yes! tokyo is 7 hours from karatsu by train. also, tokyo rink is not a real place and it is law that i have to include takoyaki in my art constantly because its my fave food and i constantly crave it.
> 
>  
> 
> follow me on twitter!! @goombellart; i draw there, including fanart of shadow viktor (who you'll see next chapter in all his ice queen glory) this is only the intro, so please look forward to more!
> 
>  
> 
> thank you for reading!


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